


I'll Walk With You

by Summerbreaze



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Eventual Smut, M/M, Pre-War, Slow Build, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-04-19 19:26:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4758080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Summerbreaze/pseuds/Summerbreaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*****ATTENTION READERS! THIS STORY HAS BEEN EDITED! IF YOU'VE ALREADY READ IT, I RECOMMEND READING THROOUGH IT ONCE AGAIN BEFORE READING THE NEXT UPDATE AS A FEW THINGS HAVE CHANGED IN THE STORY LINE! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING<3<3*****</p><p>SLOW BUILD<br/>Be Prepared</p><p>Pre-War angsty Dratchet</p><p>Ratchet and Pharma used to have the perfect relationship.<br/>Things aren't going too great lately...So what happens when Ratchet meets a cute little leaker in his Dead End shop?<br/>Lets find out:)</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ratchet sighed deeply, sitting at his desk with one arm braced across his chest, holding his drink, the other pinching the bridge of his nose between his closed optics. He was trying desperately to calm his spark and relax his field before Pharma got back. If that wasn’t the most embarrassing comm call of his life. It was enough that _he_ knew, never mind having to hear it from a neighbor. Then to put on the _‘Oh I’m sure its nothing but thanks_ ’ faćade and pretend that it was all okay. Not that he gave a scrap what people thought of him, definitely not, but its usually looked down upon to stay with an unfaithful partner. He and Pharma were fairly happy, after all. Just as long as he let Pharma do whatever he wanted. 

He took another deep vent and opened his eyes when he heard the bell chime, signaling someone was entering the clinic. He had added the bell, because during the first few months working in the Dead End the leakers would sneak in and snag drugs while Ratchet was in his back office. During clinic hours, he now kept his office door open so he could easily peek out and see who was there when the bell chimed. A simple yet extremely effective solution. This late at night though, there was really only one person who would be coming in, especially since the clinic doors were locked. He heard footsteps approaching his office and focused more on neutralizing his field before Pharma could sense that something was wrong. He had no intentions of making up some excuse to throw at his significant other tonight. Pharma, however, did not extend the same courtesy to Ratchet, and he could feel the fliers dismay, even through the door. He reached over and refilled his drink. When he heard the faint beeping from the code being tapped into the number pad outside the door, he mentally prepared himself. Well, here we go, time to put on a happy face and ‘ _Yes, Pharma_ ’ his way through another conversation. 

Ratchet threw back his engex and the door to the office opened just as he was standing from his desk, a couple data pads in hand to make it seem like he'd been actually doing work, instead of drowning his sorrows in intoxicants and contemplating their relationship for the umpteenth time. Scrap, maybe they weren't that happy. Well, Ratchet wasn’t happy…Pharma sure was, having his cake and eating it too. He could go out, and be with whoever, do whatever he wanted, have his fun, then he got to come home to Ratchet, have someone to have a drink with at night, crawl in to bed with, and a sure thing if he was ever a little charged up. Which was less and less often now that he was obviously satisfying himself elsewhere.

Ratchet could live without interfacing. He'd been crazy enough in his school days that he felt he worked all the need out of his system. Though the beginning with Pharma had been exciting. Pit, it'd been more than exciting. Pharma was the best lover Ratchet had ever had. That petite little frame, with a wonderfully tight and warm valve that he swore he'd never get tired of. The jet sure knew how to move his hips too, and between both of their stamina, they had spent countless nights without sleep, just tangled in a lust filled heap on the berth until their overloads had forced them offline.

For a really long time, they _were_ happy. 

“ _What_ a day!” Pharma started before the door even closed behind him.

“I tell you, if one more person asks if I'm ‘ _sure about their treatment’_ or if i _‘know what I'm doing’_ , I just might loose it. Honestly, why are you even _coming_ to me if your just going to doubt everything that I say? I am the professional after all!” 

Of course. How could he not see this coming? This constant need to make Ratchet feel guilty, inferior even, because of his reputation. 

When bots came to the DMF, it was usually to see Ratchet. It wasn't his fault that he succeeded so exponentially. His hands and his speed were legendary. Mechs traveled from all over Cybertron to be seen by him, but that meant that Ratchet was _always_ busy. So, if you didn't have an appointment, or couldn't afford it (another thing that grated on Pharma’s ego), you were left to see the medical facilities other doctor, Pharma. Who of course was just as capable as Ratchet, but significantly less notorious. When he opened up shop here in the Dead End, Pharma wasn't the most supportive, but after realizing that if Ratchet worked only part time at the DMF that more clients would go to him, Pharma became increasingly okay with the idea.  

You know, it was kind of sad. Even though his partner was constantly picking fights and their relationship had progressed in such a way that they were practically platonic, Ratchet still felt that same care and attraction towards Pharma as he had when they first began. When he looked up from his data pad and saw Pharma standing there, with those _beautiful_ wings, he was reminded why he put up with all of Pharma’s scrap. He really was very attractive. Attractive, intellectual and easy to hold a conversation with, despite being a fair amount younger than Ratchet. 

“Don’t worry too much about it Pharma. Everybody knows your a brilliant doctor.” 

Ratchet has perfected the skill of building up Pharma’s ego. Not that he needed it.

“I get those questions too. Everyone gets nervous about treatments” 

Not true. Nobody ever doubted anything he said. He could tell someone with a broken finger that they needed a new spark casing and they'd still say ‘ _Of course, Doctor!’_ and hand him an obscene amount of money to perform the obviously unnecessary procedure. 

Pharma sighed audibly and rolled his eyes “Well, I doubt that, but whatever you say, dear”. Ratchet could tell that Pharma wanted to press the matter, but something was holding him back. Usually this argument went on at least 20 minutes before Pharma was satisfied with the amount of times that Ratchet had told him he was amazing, and brilliant and of course just as good, if not better than himself. 

“I’m afraid that i’ll be coming home late tonight” Aaaand there it is. “I’ve got an important meeting with a patient later on that I simply cant miss, but please don't bother to wait up.” Ratchet tried to hide his scowl and raised eyebrow in his data pad but he felt he was failing so he simply turned around towards the cabinet and pretended to be looking for a file. 

“Is that so?” He replied. Trying to hold back his sarcasm was difficult for him on an everyday basis, but when Pharma got going with his bout of excuses, it took every ounce of energy to sound sincere. “Well I hope its nothing serious”.

“No nothing too crazy…” he trailed off as if he still needed to say something, but couldn't figure out how. Ratchet froze in the cabinet and turned his head partially over his shoulder to look at Pharma, hoping that his intent would be portrayed in his expression. 

“Everything okay, Pharma?” He asked, after about a minute of watching his wings twitch and his fingers fiddle with the kibble at his sides. 

“Yes, I just forgot to tell you… I’m leaving on a business trip. I’ll be gone about two weeks. I… I cant believe it slipped my mind, we've just been so busy at the facility, and you're always here in your spare time.” 

Oh you have _got_ to be kidding. Ratchet slammed the cabinet closed and turned to fully face Pharma, who was still staring at his feet. 

“And when will you be leaving, _dear?”_ Ratchet had officially had enough. This was getting so out of hand, he had to do something. 

“Actually, I'm leaving tomorrow… but i’ll call everyday and check in so you know I'm safe” Pharma looked up with an innocent smile on. Who was he trying to convince? Ratchet or himself? How little credit must he give Ratchet to think that he could possibly get away with this all this?

“Well I really do have to go, and since you are working here tomorrow and not with me, I suppose I’ll see you in two weeks?” Pharma moved towards Ratchet and put his arms around the others waist, looking directly into his optics. 

Ratchet sighed again. “Yes Pharma…be safe okay?” Then he put his hand to Pharma’s face and moved in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Pharma kissed back, but only for a moment before pulling away. 

“Yes, yes of course. Goodnight, I’ll call when I get there”

And with that, Pharma was gone. He hadn't even had the decency to tell Ratchet _where_ he was going. Not that it really mattered. When Ratchet had gotten that call earlier from the mech who lived a few doors down, saying he saw Pharma with a slightly larger Mech, walking suspiciously close to each other, leaving their shared apartment, it was the last piece of proof he needed. Pharma wasn't just fooling around with some random pleasure bots here and there for fun. He was actually seeing someone else. He used to be careful. Never bring his two-credit whores around where they lived. Always to the office or some cheap hotel room in the crap part of town. Ratchet had followed him more times than he cared to count, just to hope he could be proved wrong. Now Pharma was escalating. Bringing some random bot to their home, not even trying to hide what he was doing was taking this too far. Blatant disrespect and just plain impractical. Now was he actually going away with him? Primus, how could Ratchet be so _stupid._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift doesn't want to have to frag for money, but he knows that he's good at it, and its always a sure thing. People weren't gonna stop wanting overloads. So he sucks it up, and does what he must to survive on the crappy, dangerous streets of Rodion's Dead End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I in NO WAY wish to depict Drift as weak. I feel like he's just really good at picking his battles.  
> Also, these first two chapters are going to be paced a little different from the rest of the story, just to get us started. 
> 
> Thanks again so much for reading <3

Drift rolled his optics and let out a shuttering breath as he rocked back and forth on the cheap motel room berth. The scratchy coverings were irritating his back plates, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. The mech above him was currently thrusting in and out of Drift’s valve with what _had_ to be all of his strength, probably leaving dents and scrapes along the insides of Drifts thighs. _Guess I'm spending the rest of the night buffing those out_ he thought as he wrapped his legs around his very enthusiastic customer’s waist. 

“C’mon. _Moan_ for me. Don’t I feel good?” The mech grunted, his pace increasing ever so slightly. He was obviously close, so Drift worked his calipers, gripping at the mechs spike trying to push him over the edge so he would just get the frag _off of him_ already. 

He was so fragging _heavy_ , and sweating so much coolant that Drift thought he might drown in it. Ugh. On occasion, he could be picky with his clientele, but right now his tank was almost on empty, so Mr. Big and Sweaty would have to do.  

“Of course. _So_ good” Drift responded in his sexiest pleasure mech growl. “Don’t stop” he added, nice and breathy. _Perfect_ he thought as the mech pushed forward, grunting once more as he came deep inside Drifts oversensitive valve. Drift winced at the feeling of the hot fluid inside him, trying not to scowl. The mech relaxed against him, lazily thrusting through his aftershocks.

“You didn't overload?”

Oh great. The _sensitive_ type. Either he was actually concerned with Drift’s lack of release, _unlikely_ , or he was offended that he wasn't good enough to get Drift there. 

With all the mechs he's had over-abusing his poor valve, Drift would be surprised if he ever overloaded again. The mech lifted himself onto his elbows and looked down at Drift. Drift reluctantly looked up, making eye contact, and he immediately regretted it. The mech looked borderline furious. “What? I'm not good enough for you?” He pulled himself from Drift’s valve and sat up on his knees. Drifts optics went wide as the mech pulled his hand back, looking like he was about to strike.  Drift automatically threw up his arms blocking his face. 

“NO! no! I-I’m close! so close, just a couple more thrusts would have done it! You were great! Really!” Drift started saying all the things that usually worked to calm his clients down. It wasn't uncommon for a client to get upset with him, and it definitely wasn't uncommon for him to get slapped around a bit. He had convinced himself that it was worth it if he was able to refuel that night, or at least score a booster or two. Just slip into that blissful emptiness and for a few hours, forget he even _existed_ in this pit of a life he forced himself into. 

Scrap, sometimes he regretted his decision to leave his cushy life. He had a decent job, was always fed, and people respected him. Or at least pretended to because they were too scared to tick him off. Either way, he left that all behind and now, this was all there was,…and he would and could deal with it, like he always had. A quick frag, and a quick boost.

“Oh, yeah?” his sated but angry client asked, squinting his eyes, clearly not buying it. “Well, too bad I don’t believe you” He brought his arm down and Drift couldn't react fast enough. _Damn it_ , he’d moaned and worked his hips real nice and this was his reward? A backhand across his face. Fraggit. He reached up and wiped at the energon trailing down his cheek as the mech threw his money on the bed. “What a little slut, spreading your legs for a few shanix.” He chuckled “You probably like this don’t you? Getting slapped around? Well, someones gotta keep you leakers in your place” He drew his hand back again, just to watch Drift flinch on the bed. “Take your money, and close your panel.” 

 _‘Whore’_ he mumbled under his breath as he left the room, but Drift had already closed his panel and was too busy scraping the money together on the sheets to be worried about what some dick might have to say about him. 

“Fraggin' aft” Drift counted his shanix and was pleased to see that the mech at least paid him properly. He got off the bed and made his way to the washracks, shoving his money into his subspace. He flicked the switch and leaned with both arms on either side of the sink, staring at the scuff mark on the side of his face. He winced as he reached up and lightly pressed his fingers to it, thankfully already seeing his auto repair start to work, which was surprising considering the amount of energon _not_ in his systems right now. He looked around the small room for a cloth and found a dirty rag bunched up behind the door. He rolled his eyes and shrugged as he leaned down, _you’ve had worse on your face_ he told himself as he picked it up off the floor and shook it out, thankful to see that it was mostly clean. He grimaced, running it under the water for a few seconds before ringing it out and dabbing it lightly along the cut, wiping away all the energon. He wet the cloth again and brought it down between his legs cleaning away that _fraggers_ fluids from his panel and thighs.

_You probably like this don’t you? Getting slapped around?_

No, he didn't like being degraded. He wished he could stand up and knock out guys like that for even thinking about talking to him like that. Of course he could defend himself. He could kill that guy in a spark-beat without a second thought. But, the easiest route was to just take the money and go, so, that’s what Drift did. He left the motel room, and started walking in the direction of where he knew he could find a nice, easy client. He had just enough for some fuel, and a little extra. One more client and he could go back to his hole in the wall, and get nice and high and let his mind disappear. If only for tonight. He walked down the street until he got to his usual corner, propped himself up real sultry against the wall, and waited.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, but the next one starts to get to the good stuff.  
> Thanks for reading guys <3

With the last patient of the night finally finished, Ratchet was working on straightening up the clinic. He tended to keep things rather clean so really he was just tidying up. Wiping down equipment, sweeping, organizing files, sterilizing the berths. Basically he just wanted to keep busy. Pharma had left 3 days ago and has yet to check in or at least let him know that he was safe. Why should he care anyway? Pharma certainly didn't care about Ratchet’s well being. Too busy galavanting around with big hulking mechs to worry about his long time lover and best friend. 

Ratchet cast a glance at his liquor cabinet and thought about how nice it would be to have a drink right about now. He didn't usually like to have any intoxicants while he was working, but technically the clinic was closed, and lately it had been harder and harder to resist the call of engex. He craved that warm, tingly numbness that the strong fuel left behind.  He sighed and glanced over at the front doors of the shop, sending the code to lock them for the night, before making his way to the bottle of Engex staring at him through the glass doors. He opened them, pulled out a glass and the bottle and made his way to his office, shutting off the lights to the main room as he left.

He sighed as he sat down behind his desk, poured his drink and took a huge gulp, draining almost the whole glass in his first swig. _Frag_ , how could he let things get this bad? He could drown himself in work and the pain would get a little more bearable, but once the patients were gone, and everything around him was quiet, he was left with nothing but his thoughts. All these dark thoughts that he pushed to the back of his processor to be able to go on with daily life. It wouldn't do to be distracted by his personal problems while trying to perform a life saving surgery. Now that he was alone, all those fragging problems were just scratching at the front of his mind, and before he could let them consume him, he finished his glass, and then another, and half of his third before he fell asleep with his head in his hand, not even realizing how tired he was, until his optics forced themselves shut and his systems powered down into a much needed recharge. 

**

_It was well into the night cycle when Ratchet pulled up to the Deltaran Medical Facility. He was having trouble sleeping, and Pharma was out late again, Primus knows where. So, instead of staying home, alone, staring at the ceiling, he figured he may as well get some work done. He transformed to root mode and put his code into the front door, stepping through as it swished open. It closed behind him automatically and he sent the command to make sure it would re-lock. Anyone who needed to be here at this hour, would have the code to get in. When it came time to open, he would go back out front and unlock the doors for the patients, like usual, since he was typically the first one here every morning._

_As he walked towards his office, he was surprised to see the light already on in the hallway. He slowed his walk, and slid his blades from his wrists. Ratchet wasn’t a fighter, but he could at least try and defend himself against some junkie who broke in here, probably looking for higher quality stuff than that crap Syk they sell on the streets._

_He kept his gait quiet and even, turning his audials all the way up to listen for footsteps or rummaging of some sort. He was surprised when he instead heard quiet laughter. A soft chuckle, in a light Vosian voice that he was intimately familiar with. When he turned the corner, he saw a slice of light cut across the floor coming from the cracked door to Pharma’s office. What in the name of the Allspark was Pharma doing here, in the middle of the night, giggling, in his office?_

_Then Ratchet heard something even worse. A moan. A deep, low, breathy moan._

_“Oh, Pharma, yes”_

_Ratchet stopped dead in his tracks, two steps from the door. His fuel ran cold in his lines and he felt like his spark had stopped pulsing all together._

_“You like that, don’t you?”_

_Pharma’s favorite line. Always needing recognition, validation._

_Another breathy moan._

_“Mmm yes. Yes. Don’t stop”_

_“I wouldn’t dream of it"_

_Ratchet closed his eyes and took a quiet, deep breath before forcing his feet to move. He wasn’t born yesterday, and he knew exactly what was going on behind that door, but he moved forward anyway. He had to know for sure._

_He reached the crack in the door and peeked his head around, only to wish that he hadn’t. There they were. Pharma, down on his knees, in front of a large purple mech, working the others spike in and out of his mouth._

_Ratchet barely held back his gasp as he turned away, and as soon as he was far enough, he ran. Ran out the front door and transformed, speeding away, down the streets with no direction, until he found himself at his clinic. He went in, slammed the door shut behind him and practically threw himself down on the nearest berth. His legs felt like rubber, unable to support him as his spark sank. He would never admit to the amount of coolant tears he shed that night, but Primus nothing had ever hurt this bad in his life. How was he supposed to face Pharma tomorrow? How was he supposed to tell him what he saw?_

_No. He wouldn’t tell him. It was a momentary lapse. He was sure of it. Pharma would realize his mistake and everything would go back to normal. Ratchet had no reason to worry. Right?_

**

Ratchet was startled out of his recharge by a loud banging at the front doors. He looked down at his half full glass and immediately regretted his decision to drink, as he was now going to have to tend to some kind of emergency, if the urgency of the banging was anything to go by. 

He scoffed, pushing the drink away from him and reaching over and opening his side drawer. He rummaged around for a few seconds before he found some tablets to take to help clear the charge out of his system. He popped two in his mouth, took a deep breath and headed out towards the racket whoever was at his door was causing.

“I’m coming, i’m coming!” he yelled, even knowing that whoever was out there couldn't hear him. “Primus” he mumbled as he sent the command to unlock the doors. He was more than a little surprised to see Orion Pax standing there, holding what appeared to be a drugged out, beat to scrap leaker in his arms. 

“Ratchet, i’m sorry for the disturbance, I know it’s late, but, please…He needs your help”. 

“Yes, of course Orion. Please, come in, put him on the berth over there, i’ll get prepped.” 

**

Ratchet had, of course, seen worse in his life, but honestly, who sticks a circuit booster straight into their helm?! Someone with a death wish, he would imagine. At first, Ratchet found himself wondering if he should even be fixing him…If this poor leaker wouldn't just try to off himself again once he was out of here. Ratchet cared for all of his patients, but the more time he spent working on him, the more he felt he needed to make sure this particular patient walked away, not only as good as new, but _better_. This kids’ spark seemed to shine through his damn plating.

He glanced up at Orion, who had been standing there, watching him work, the entire time… “You’re staring again Pax”Orion, just like everyone else, had a thing for his hands. He liked to watch him work, said that the speed was _unreal._ Ratchet had just shrugged it off, and after a few dozen times, he had gotten used to it. There wasn’t very much that could shake Ratchet while he was working. It was almost like he wasn't even here. He would zone out into his own little world where there was only him, and his patient. 

In this particular case, Ratchet couldn't stop stealing glances up at the leakers face. 

The first thing he saw was dirt…lots of it. Dirt and scratches and dents and _so much damn energon._ Primus, he looked like he'd been to the pit and back…Twice. 

But if he looked a little harder, past the grime, and the hurt, he could see a face that was actually quite handsome. Adorable, full lips, a cute yellow crest and the most elegant, unique white finials he's ever seen. 

Ratchet shook his head, and looked back to his work. He could stare at the kid all he wants later, during his recovery…and possibly try to convince himself that watching a patient sleep isn't creepy. There was no crime in just lookin’…

 


	4. Chapter 4

Well, thats weird. The last thing Drift remembers was boosting his way to oblivion in his little back alley hole in the wall… Definitely not laying on a berth, feeling warm and cozy and not at all high. _Oh Primus_ , what has he gotten himself into this time? He booted his optics and reset them a few times until he could see clearly. He turned his head to the side and took a look around, quickly familiarizing himself with his surroundings. Great… he's in a medbay. How in the name of the _fragging pit_ did he get in a medbay? He tried to sit up and immediately regretted that decision when the entire room practically flipped upside down. He groaned and went horizontal again, shutting his optics to try and settle the rolling in his tanks. He instinctively raised his hand to his head, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn’t restrained in any way. He opened his eyes again and saw that the only thing keeping him there were the lines monitoring his spark, hooked up from his wrist port to a fancy machine next to his berth, and the energon tube in his arm keeping him fueled.

He tilted his head, slowly to try and see if there was anyone else around. When he found himself alone, he checked himself over and felt a slight sting in his left side. He reached down and shifted one of the plates on his waist up and saw a white mesh patch. He lifted one of the corners up and underneath was a pink-purplish bruise surrounding a deep gash. He hissed through his teeth, the stinging getting worse at the feeling of the patch moving over the injury. He quickly covered it again, and decided to just let it be until its healed. Whoever fixed him had also cleaned him up. His joints didn't feel caked with grime and his plating was…not shiny, but it at least looked white and gray again, instead of brownish, blackish, grossish - whatever he usually looked like. 

It was unlikely that someone had brought him here out of the kindness of their spark, and his spark beat increased at the thought that they had finally found him, making the machine to his right beep a little faster, catching Ratchets attention.

Drift was intimately familiar with the med-bay in his former boss’ base and this was too bright and clean and organized to belong to them. Plus, he doubted that if they had found him, and managed to capture him, they wouldn't have gone through the trouble of cleaning him up.

After that shock had worn off, he realized that he had no way to pay this debt off to whomever it was that brought him here. He shifted on the berth and tried to think.  Maybe he could try and sneak out if he was alone… Unfortunately, he heard voices, not too far away. One was strong, and authoritative but smooth. The other was… was deep and rough. Sounded like this mech had spent most of his life shouting. _This_ voice caught his attention as soon as he heard it. It seemed to vibrate all the way through him with each muffled word. He tried to listen, to see if maybe they were talking about him, but he couldn't hear clearly. He just picked up random words here and there, but the more he listened, the more he wished the mech attached to that gruff voice would show himself. He actually found himself getting a little warmed up. _Or_ maybe he was just the frag-addicted buymech he was always told he was. 

Either way, he wasn't sneaking out anytime soon. Since he wasn't restrained, and he felt.. well, pretty good actually (better than he's felt in a very long time), he figured he wasn't in any immediate danger, and his body was clearly not ready to go anywhere yet. He turned on his side to face the wall, cradled his head in his arms and let himself fall back into recharge. 

**

“Orion, i’m sorry, but I cannot let you take him.” Ratchet continued to argue with Orion Pax, as he had been for the past half hour. He was in his office, leaning on a data pad cabinet with his face in his hand, his other arm gesturing wildly as he tried, again, to explain to Orion that he thought throwing this kid in jail was a stupid idea. 

“He nearly had the life beat out of him, and you want to arrest him? He’s the victim here.”

Sure, boosting was technically illegal, but this poor kid obviously had enough problems without having to worry about surviving in jail. Those two fraggers that beat the scrap out of him are the ones who belong in jail (where they currently are). He didn't ask to get attacked in the middle of a trip, even though it’s a good thing he did, because that booster in the head would have probably killed him otherwise. 

Ratchet took a quick peek out the door to his office, hearing the spark monitor speed up. He let out a small sigh of relief when he was still there lying on the berth they left him on. Ratchet couldn't help but crack a little smile when he saw that the kid had turned over and faced the wall, sticking his cute little aft out with his arms cradling his head. He looked so peaceful, and Ratchet’s sparked warmed thinking about how much better off the kid was here. Safe. He would have to get him into a room of his own if he was gonna be here a while. The main room of the clinic was just a big room with 8 berths lining the walls separated by curtains, and there was one private room that he had for patients who needed to be kept over night or for extended periods of time. Usually the mechs he treated didn't like to stick around, but sometimes it was necessary. 

Ratchet realized he was staring but he couldn't pull his eyes away. He was especially taken with the buymechs unique finials. He knew they were packed with sensors, and it would most likely be very pleasurable if someone played with them…

If Ratchet could just talk to him he knew he could change the kids outlook on life, knew he could get him to stop boosting. He was special. Ratchet could feel it. 

Ratchet ran his hand over his face and looked back to Orion who was perched against Ratchet’s desk.  
“Is he alright? Orion asked  
“Yeah. He made himself at home, nice and comfy on that berth. And thats right where his aft is staying until he’s fully recovered. Then I’ll talk to him, convince him to go try and find a real job. Get a paint n’ polish and he’ll be good as new, if not better.”

Orion groaned “Ratchet, he was found with a large dose of drugs running through his system with the booster still sticking out of his plating” Ratchet rolled his eyes “If I can get him to give up the mechs he got it from, then maybe we can get them off the street for good, and you won't have to worry about any more overdosing leakers coming in here.” Ratchet huffed “Trying to put me out of business?” He asked, one eyebrow ridge raised. 

“We’ve been searching for head of this operation for as long as I can remember, and I know that leaker in there knows something. I need to bring him in, process him for possession of an illegal substance, and question him about what he knows” Orion added. 

“Then you can talk to him, when he wakes up. Right there”  
Ratchet jerked him thumb behind him towards the room where Drift was fast asleep.

“Ratchet, I need to take him in, I have to follow protocol. I cant ignore the rules just because you have a soft spot for helpless-“  
Orion's comm went off. ”One moment” He excused himself and took a few steps towards the back of the room. Ratchet stole another quick glance at the berth around the door frame before turning back to Orion. He had answered the comm, and turned his attention back to Ratchet. “I have to go, but please contact me immediately when he wakes.” 

Ratchet took a deep breath, prepared to argue, but Orion was clearly in a rush so he just nodded and waved him off as he left the clinic. Looks like he had bought the kid a few days at least.


	5. Chapter 5

The next time Drift awoke, it was because he felt something touching his plating. Acting on instinct, he immediately caught the offending hand in his and drew a knife from his subspace. The blade was pressed up against his attacker’s throat before he was even fully sitting upright on the berth. 

Ratchet’s optics went wide and he held his breath, afraid that even the slightest movement would drive that blade right through the cables in his throat, and he was in no mood to bleed out on the floor of his medbay. Luckily for him, Drift went still and just stared up at Ratchet, lifting one eyebrow ridge, patiently waiting for an explanation. 

Ratchet felt a strong stir in his spark, and he didn't know if it was from nerves or from the low growl the mech on the berth was emitting from deep in his vocalizer. 

Ratchet took a shaky breath, lifting his hands away in a universal sign of surrender.  “Relax kid, I’m just checking your patch.” He said hesitantly and as soft as he could, which wasn't hard to do because as soon as he took one look at those bright blue eyes he felt his whole frame lose its tension. He didn't think he could get a harsh word out if his life depended on it. Oh, he could _not_ let Orion take him. The hurt and distrust in this poor mech’s eyes was enough to make him physically weak.

“I’m your doctor, I’m not going to hurt you.” he managed to say, hoping that he would be allowed to continue. Drift’s hand at Ratchet’s throat slackened a little and he quickly glanced down to his waist then immediately back up to Ratchet. “Please, kid. Just let me change your patch and clean the wound so you don’t get an infection.” he said, still not moving until he was given permission. Ratchet wasn't surprised that his patient had reacted that way. He’d done a thorough exam on the kid and it wasn't hard to tell how he survived on the streets. 

He thought about fixing up his array. Replacing the valve lining, treating the bruising and tearing around the entrance, replacing some of the broken and out of place nodes just within, but then he figured that was the kind of thing you asked a mech permission for first. As much as it pained him to see this adorable mech being in such obvious pain, he didn't want to invade his privacy either, so he checked for anything life threatening, and once he found it all clear, he closed him right back up. 

Drift slowly removed his hand from the medic’s neck and gave a short nod to let  Ratchet know he could continue. “You the one who fixed me up?” Drift asked. He searched Ratchet’s form for the medic crosses, and when he found them, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Ratchet just made a _mmhm_ noise to say yes, as he was now focusing on carefully removing the patch with as little pain as possible. Drift still flinched slightly when he pulled it off, and Ratchet gave an apologetic look towards the kid’s face, but he wasn't looking. Drift was staring down at Ratchet’s fingers accusingly, just _waiting_ for Ratchet to do something wrong.

“I just told you, I’m not gonna hurt you. Now relax, I have to clean this and it may sting a little, so take a breath or clench your teeth or whatever helps”. Ratchet leaned over to a tray and picked up a clean towel and a bottle of disinfectant. Drift watched him pour some of the gooey green liquid from the bottle onto the towel, and the strong, sharp smell of the cleanser hit his sensors before it even touched his plating. He hissed again as Ratchet slowly and gently rubbed at his side, but he sat still figuring that if this mech was gonna hurt him, he would have done it already. Plus, this was the doc who fixed him up real nice, and apparently the one with that titillating voice he heard earlier too. Drift didn't have any money, but he could sure think of another way to pay off this debt.

While Ratchet was busy wiping away the dried energon and securing a new patch, Drift was busy checking the doctor out. Every once in a while Drift would get an attractive client, but they were few and far between. He tried to think back to the last time he fragged someone he actually _wanted_ to, but that brought back memories that he'd rather forget. The doctor had a sturdy frame; a stunning red with white accents. He looked like he could carry a mech probably more than twice his size, and Drift found that to be hot as _frag._ He’d always gotten off on mechs bigger than him. Ones that could hold him, make him feel safe. You could see the doc’s age in his face, but that _could_ also be from the stress of saving everyone’s lives all the time, and it in no way made him any less attractive, if anything it only added to the mechs appeal. 

Drift had always made himself feel better by justifying his job, saying that at least he made people happy. He made them feel good, and, well, who doesn't like a good overload now and then? But honestly, he was disposable. Another mech could come along and do his job just as well. Now doctors, they were special. Forged with all this extra coding and crazy protocols that helped them help others. Really help them. Life-saving help. He also had some experience with medics hands. Those were something real special. Packed with all these extra sensors and tools and extremely sensitive.  ‘Medics hands are irreplaceable’ was the exact phrase he'd been told. 

Why couldn't he have been forged a doctor or something? Then maybe he could save a life. Maybe someone would look at him the way he was looking at his savior right now. He couldn't help it, as stupid as he felt blatantly staring at the medic, there was no stopping the way his fans clicked on at their lowest setting in response to the his gentle touch and close proximity. Unfortunately, Drift just _knew_ that a good lookin’ bot, with a great job like this, almost _definitely_ had someone in his life, and even if he didn’t, he certainly wouldn't be interested in a dirty street mech like him. 

“You know, kid-“ Ratchet’s voice startled Drift from his thoughts “-maybe a booster to the head isn’t the best way to try and… get your high. I mean, sure it will get the job done but honestly, what are you trying to do, stop your spark?” Ratchet hoped that was okay to say. He wanted the kid to know he cared, but he didn't want to offend him. 

He was avoiding eye contact at all costs as he finished up Drift’s patch, focusing on keeping his vents steady.

Drift looked up as the doctor finished working on his side and took a couple steps back to put his tools back on the tray. Concern for his well being wasn't something Drift came across everyday, and he honestly didn't know how to respond. 

“I uh…well. It just-I dont- I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time I guess”.

Stammering out a response because it felt like it would be rude not to, his embarrassment levels rose even more and he looked back down at his peds, slightly swinging them back and forth where they hung over the side of the berth. Drift wasn't used to being held accountable for his actions. The doctor didn't seem angry at him, which gave him some relief, but Drift swore he could sense some disappointment in the doctor’s voice, and that just made him feel even worse.

“Well, it wasn’t.” Ratchet shook his head as he moved his tray over to the sink. He glanced over his shoulder at Drift and let out a heavy sigh at how defeated the kid looked.

Ratchet turned back around and emptied the contents of the tray into the sink. He washed his hands and decided the rest could be washed later. He put the bottle of cleanser on a shelf and tossed the used rag into a bin. “Just- Just don't do it again alright?”

Drift’s optics flashed and he jerked his head up at the words, spoken so softly that he could barely hear them. This doctor really seemed to actually give a scrap about him, which, to Drift, was beyond comprehension. He didn't even _know_ this mech, has barely spoken to him, didn't even know his _name_ , but there was something about him that felt like it was tugging Drift across the room, even though he stay sitting there, perfectly still on the berth. His plating, his lines, his _spark_ seemed to reach out and grab for this stranger. 

“This isn't the room I woke up in before” Drift said as he realized that this room was smaller, less stuff in it. More…private.

“Yea, I moved your berth out of the main room and into one of your own so you could recharge undisturbed”  _How considerate,_ Drift thought.

Ratchet walked over to his desk grabbing Drift’s file and pushing the chair out from behind it, dragging it until it was in front of Drift. 

“I’m gonna ask you a few questions, strictly routine stuff.” Ratchet flipped open Drift’s file and looked up at the leaker “If you don't mind, of course” he added, just to try and make the kid a little more comfortable. 

“Yea, sure” Drift said, almost a whisper, and nodded his head. 

“Okay, first of all, You got a name, kid?”

“Yea”

“You wanna tell me what it is?”

Drift though for a minute about wether or not he could trust this medic. He wasn't sure if his old employer had figured out his new name, and if they did, he didn't need anyone knowing that he was here.He doubted that his red and white savior was associated in any way with his old crew, but he needed to be sure. 

When Drift didn't answer right away, Ratchet didn't press the subject, he just went on to the next question. 

“Can you tell me how you feel?” 

Drift raised an eyebrow and shrugged one shoulder

“Don’t you already know everything thats wrong with me?”

“Yes, but I need to hear it from you”

“That seems a little redundant”

“Just, _humor_ me. Please.”

Drift raised both hands from where they lay in his lap and then let them drop back down. He looked himself up and down before looking back at Ratchet.

“Well, my side kind of hurts.” He paused. “And my head, a little dizzy.”

Ratchet hummed and nodded his head while he scribbled down something on Drift’s chart. Finally they were getting somewhere. 

“Well you’re side will heal in a few days, with rest, as long as you don't tear the weld. 

You’re helm is probably gonna take a little longer. I had to replace a few wires, reroute some circuitry and you’ve got those holes in your plating from jabbing the booster in, that your auto repair should take care of within the next week. Your finials also should only take a couple days”  Drift reached up and ran a finger up one of his finials, feeling bandages that he didn't even know were there. 

“You got me on any pain meds doc?” Drift asked, now feeling up both of his finials, and pretty confused as to why it didn't hurt. Actually he didn't feel anything at all, which was slightly worrying because his finials are usually _extremely_ sensitive. 

Ratchet raised an eyebrow and couldn't help the little smirk that crossed his lips at the sight of Drift rubbing at his finials with a confused face on. Adorable. 

“No, I didn’t want to put anything into your system. I jacked into your medical port but strangely enough there wasn't any information there. It was all corrupted, so I don't know if it was manually erased or some kind of damage to the port caused it, but either way I had no idea if there was anything in your system and I didn't want to risk you having a reaction. Your finials were badly damaged, so I moved around some of your wiring so you wouldn't feel the pain. When you're all healed up, or at least enough where the pain is bearable, I’ll fix it for you. 

Drifts optics went bright. That was kinda… _strange_. But before he could be bothered anymore by that, another thought came to his head. 

“I’m kinda wondering how I got here”

Ratchet looked back up at Drift, who was staring at him expectantly, apparently hoping for some answers.

“I’m not surprised you don't remember. That trip did a hell of a number on you.”

Drift cringed at the repeated mention of his drug use. _I am never boosting again. Ever._

Ratchet put the chart down on his lap, and leaned forward in his chair.

“Well, to put it simply, you were beaten half to death in that alleyway of yours”. 

Drift leaned back a bit, and Ratchet watched his face change as he tried to remember something like that happening to him, but he didn't look too surprised. While Drift’s eyes and mind wandered, Ratchet just took a minute and _stared_. He could not pull his eyes away from the thoughtful look on the leaker’s face, and _Primus_ what was wrong with him? He fixes up mechs like this all the time, young innocent bots who got on the wrong path and never got off. They all meant something to him, _all of them_ , but for some unknown reason this one bot sparked his interest in a way that nobody ever had. Not even Pharma. In fact, Pharma was the furthest thing from Ratchet’s mind right now. The only thing that he cared about was getting the bot in front of him to speak so he could hear that beautiful voice again. 

“Weird” Drift mumbled. But Ratchet didn't hear, too busy gazing. 

Drift however, was trying to hide his fear, because the only thing he could think was  _they found him._ Of course people got the scrap beat out of them all the time on the streets, but usually when they had something of value. Drift’s money was gone, and his only booster was all used up on himself, so what could someone accomplish by knocking him out? It hd to be someone who knew who he was. Maybe that re-frame hadn't done as much as he thought it had. 

“Why didn't they kill me?” He said,  mostly to himself. What made them leave without finishing the job? 

Ratchet leaned back in his chair, finally coming out of his trance, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now, I'm not really supposed to talk to you about all this until Pax gets back, so lets just leave it at ‘You’re lucky to be alive’ and get back to healing you up, okay?”. 

“Who’s Pax?” 

"He’s the guy that dragged your aft in here, so when you see him, the least you could do is be cooperative” 

That got Drift feeling suspicious all over again.

“What kind of ‘Cooperative’?” He asked, narrowing his optics at the mech across from him. Cooperative usually meant _shut your mouth and stay still ‘til i’m finished with you,_ and Drift certainly did _not_ cooperate like that free. 

“He’s a cop. My buddy actually, and he needs to talk to you about what happened last night”. Drift’s eyes went wide at the mention of the authorities, and that set off the alarm in his head. He definitely had to get out of here before this Pax guy came back. Which was unfortunate, cuz he really wasn't ready to say goodbye, and he kinda didn't want to leave without his finials fixed.

…Maybe he didn't have to leave _just_ yet.

“You know doc, I have no money. As much as I appreciate your _expert_ repairs, I honestly have no way to pay you”. Drift leaned back on his hands and gave the doc a little smile. “Unless, of course, theres something else I can offer you…?” 

Ratchet cocked an eyebrow a him and folded his arms, to disguise the chill that ran up his spine at the thought of what the kid was insinuating. 

“Theres nothing to pay kid. Just want to make sure your in tip top shape before I send you out, but you _can't_ leave before Orion gets back.”

“What do you mean theres nothing to pay?” Well, that didn't make any sense.

“You don’t deserve to _die_ just because you were dealt a crap hand, alright? Plus, I don’t…I don't frag patients, so just lie down and get some rest.” He laid his hand softly on the center of Drift’s chest and lightly pushed, silently letting Drift know that it was apparently, time for recharge, then he signaled the lights off and left without another word. 

Drift still looked completely flabbergasted by the time Ratchet had left. He took a few deep breaths and tried to figure out who the hell he _was_ to deserve the care of a doctor like _that_ without having to pay him back somehow. 

Drift wasn’t stupid, he knew when to just accept when a good thing happens, and try not to question it. He was still a little suspicious, but he was also still tired, probably from his self repair being in overdrive, so he laid down and tried to get some rest.

**

A few hours later, Drift awoke. He peeked around to make sure he was alone before he got up off the berth, grabbing the edge of it once he got to his feet. His dizziness hadn't gotten much better, but he needed to hit the bricks _right now_. There was no way in the pit he was sticking around to talk to the police.

He saw some light coming from the hallway and assumed that was his way out. He followed the light down the hallway stepping as quietly as he possibly could. He passed a few exam rooms and at the end of the hallway was what looked like a main waiting room, then the front door. He picked up his pace but before he made it there he passed Ratchet’s office and he made the mistake of looking in. 

He froze, afraid he'd been spotted, but he relaxed again when he saw that the doctor was passed out, holding his head in his hand, with a glass of half full engex on the desk in front of him. Drift looked over at the front door again and bit his lip, the turned his gaze back at Ratchet. 

He took a deep breath and very _slowly_ took a step into Ratchet’s office. A couple more steps and he accidentally nudged a chair with his foot- the scraping sound making Drift stop dead in his tracks, head whipping up to Ratchet’s face. The doctor didn't even flinch, probably so exhausted his systems forced him into recharge. He wasn't waking up anytime soon, so Drift took the last few tentative steps towards the medic and before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself reaching down to trace the edge of the doctors chevron with his thumb. He smiled to himself, then shook his head. _When was the last time someone took care of you,_ he thought, allowing himself another few seconds with his doctor before he turned on his heel and made his way back to the entrance of the office. He glanced back at Ratchet, then hit the switch on the wall, leaving the office in the dark before heading out the front door.

**

_“Okay kid, how you feeling today?” Ratchet asked from his place in his chair, in front of Drifts berth._

_“Fine. Same as yesterday”_

_Ratchet nodded his head “Good, you should be free to go in a couple days, once your side and helm heal”_

_“Ya know doc” a lightbulb went off in the leakers head “actually, there is something else bothering me”. Ratchet looked up, ready to help his patient with whatever was hurting him. What he wasn’t prepared for, was the sight of his very attractive patient, leaning back on one arm and spreading his legs, bringing his other hand down to slowly drag up the inside of his thigh._

_  
__Ratchets vents caught and he had to stop himself before his engine let out a roar at the sight. “You see, I'm awfully…_ wet _down here, and I'm just burning up. Maybe you could take a look for me”. And with no shame at all, Drift retracted his panel, dropping his head back as he ghosted his fingers just around the edge of his array. A single drop of glistening pink lubricant dropping to the berth below him._

_  
_ _Ratchets mouth watered at the sight._

_For a minute, Ratchet just stared. As much as he tried, he could not tear his optics away from the sight in front of him, and he wanted nothing more than to lean forward and suck that lubricant right from Drifts valve. Nuzzle his face between those beautiful thighs, wrap his mouth around his anterior node and make Drift scream-_

“OOF!” Ratchet awoke abruptly when his head hit his desk. He’d fallen asleep at the clinic _again._ What was the use in going home anyway, just to be alone in a big berth more suited for two. 

Speaking of berth, he needed to open all his vents to cool down his frame after indulging in a dream far too risqué for a mech his age. Ratchet hadn't felt this revved up over someone since…well, never. He'd always been very good at controlling his urges and he never really got so turned on that it affected his everyday life. There were always more important things at hand, but frag, this kid had something about him that Ratchet just couldn't ignore…When had Ratchet turned off the lights in his office? 

He got up and carefully walked around his desk, trying to avoid knocking it, and the stacks of data pads piled up top of it. He flipped his light switch and looked around. Everything looked fine to him, nothing out of place. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. He must have been so tired he didn't remember turning off the light when he got in the room. 

Well since he was up he may as well go check on Drift, at least to make sure he was sleeping soundly. He made his way down the hall to Drift’s room, opening the door just a crack to peek in on his patient. 

His eyes went wide and he pushed the door all the way open when the berth looked empty. He slammed the light switch on the wall and his spark stopped.

_Frag._


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drift runs, and Ratchet and Pharma talk.  
> Also a short sticky scene for your pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ  
> Okay, so in this universe, there is NO war. Its a happy place where the war never happens. Sorry MTO's but you'll come online some other way. 
> 
> Also, I bring in the D.J.D but in a different context, I hope you guys enjoy.

Perfect. Just perfect.

Ratchet stood in the middle of the only private room in his little run down clinic.

The one all the way at the end of the hall. The one that someone would have to walk _past_ Ratchets office to even get anywhere near the only door in the place. It was the perfect room to put a patient who was an intense flight risk. Of course it would have been better if he’d actually been watching the hallway and not been _passed out_ and fantasizing about the kid. Ratchet can’t decide whats worse, the fact that he allowed a patient, that was technically Orion’s witness and a criminal that should have been under arrest, to escape, _or_ that he was thinking about the him that way. 

The first thing Ratchet thought of was that maybe he could still catch him. He turned and jogged down the hall and out the front door, stopping just outside to lock the doors before taking a quick look left, then right. He decided that he really didn’t know where at all to start, so he just turned to the right and started running. He searched every ally and back road he could find, spoke to other buymech he ran into asking if any of them had seen a white mech with long finials, probably holding his side. Of course nobody had, and after having to practically fight off a group of them who were way too frisky for their own good, he decided to call it a night. He’d searched a 5 block radius around the clinic and there was no sign of his patient at all. He must have been asleep longer than he thought.

After sitting on the edge of his desk thinking about how he was going to explain this to Orion, Ratchet finally convinced himself to go home and recharge in an actual berth. He locked up and while he made his way home he couldn't help but look around hoping to catch a glance of white and gray plating, though the leaker was probably long gone by now. He made it to his and Pharma’s apartment, keyed open the door and walked straight back to the berth room. He dropped down on the berth, sparing Drift one final thought before recharge claimed him.

**

Drift had never ran so fast in his entire life. His fans were running at maximum strength trying to expel all the heat from his frame, he was panting from all his vents and the cables in his legs were burning, but he kept on running.

“You can’t run forever, Deadlock! We _will_ find you!” He heard Kaon yelling from behind him.

He didn't turn to look, but he could tell that they'd stopped chasing him. They didn't need to waste their energon on him. He really _couldn't_ hide forever _._ He took a couple more sharp turns, then ducked into an abandoned building that he used sometimes when he wanted to sleep on something other than the ground. He knew there was an old mattress and a couple blankets there that he could at least recharge on for the night.  

When he finally stopped running, he was leaned up against a wall, panting shallowly trying to get his breath back. He had one hand pressed to the healing wound on his side, wishing that he had asked the doctor for some pain killers. Or maybe he should have just stayed there. _Primus,_ he was afraid of what would happen if someone recognized him. That was the whole reason he left. 

Too bad someone had seen Orion take him to the clinic, and informed Tarn’s goons that he'd talked, even though he _didn’t_. 

Frag, he should have just stayed there, healed up, and maybe get to know that handsome doc a little better. 

Eh, maybe not. He didn't frag patients. Unfortunately. Though technically Drift wasn't a patient anymore… Oh well, that ship has sailed. Drift made the decision to leave, and now he'd have to just go on with his crappy life, and forget all about that selfless medic that had saved his life, and asked for _nothing_ in return. 

Yea, he could do that, and hopefully live to see tomorrow. Luckily for him, Tarn wasn't with his gang when they found him, which wasn't unusual since he had a specific group of mechs that he sent out to “take care”  of threats to him or his organization.

 He laid down on the lumpy mattress on his back with his hands folded behind his head, closed his optics and took a couple deep breaths in and out trying to relax himself. He left the clinic yesterday with full tank, and even though he burned through most of it running from the D.J.D, he still felt full enough to be able to relax easily. Plus his frame felt awesome (besides the throb from his few still healing injuries). 

He was more than a little uneasy about having the D.J.D on his tail. They'd probably been looking for him since he left around 8 or 9 years ago. He spent all his money on his reframe and relocation. Changed his name and vowed to never speak about his past again. He hadn't picked up a gun since (but learned new techniques to protect himself). he knew they had more important things to do than chase him around all night, but once Tarn… or worse, _Megatron,_ found out they located him, he would have a big problem on his hands. He would have at least another day or two before he would have to face them again. 

He felt himself starting to fall asleep when images of red and white plating began filling his head. Memories of a deep voice and soft gentle caresses were slowly heating him from the inside out. He shook his head to try and clear it, then settled down again. How frag-starved must he be to be fantasizing about someone he spoke to for less than an hour. It _had_ been quite some time since he overloaded with the help of someone else, but honestly he was fragged practically all day every day, and if he was still a little charged up, he had two perfectly functioning hands to take care of himself. _I bet that doc’s pretty good with his hands too…_ He sighed heavily and opened his eyes. 

 _Frag_. Maybe he wouldn't be so easy to forget…so Drift just let the thoughts come, slowly rubbing his hands across his own plating. He lost himself in remembering the doc’s strong, sturdy frame so close to his and before long, Drift was far too uncomfortable to be able to recharge. 

One of his hands was gently stroking the kibble on his chest, while the other crept down to play with the seams of his panel. “ _Mmm~_ ” Drift groaned, pressing a little more firmly on his panel, as he thought about all the sweet things the doc had said to him. ‘ _I’m not gonna hurt you’ ._ Things that weren't necessarily sexy, but they made him feel different than anyone ever had. _‘I moved your berth…so you could recharge undisturbed’._ He felt like he could, for the first time _ever,_ let his guard down, like he knew he wouldn't be hurt, or abused. ‘ _Don’t do it again, alright?’_ He felt _safe._

He gasped as his valve cover clicked back, the cold air a harsh contrast to the rapidly building heat between his armor plating and protoform. He brought his hand up from his valve up and sucked two fingers into his mouth. He coated them generously with his oral fluid, sucking on them, with his eyes closed, imagining it was the doc, pressing _his_ fingers against Drifts tongue. He shoved them further back in mouth until he could feel them against the start if his throat. He groaned, sucking a little harder _‘Yea, just like that kid’ ._ He let them leave his mouth with a wet _pop_ before reaching back down and pressing his two soaked fingers to his aching node. 

A soft whimper escaped him as he rubbed slow, firm circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves, little jolts of pleasure making his hips lift off the berth into his own touch. He pressed a little harder, and he felt himself starting to lubricate, so his two fingers left his node and crept down further to gently circle the rim of his valve. He took a deep breath to relax himself, and continued to think about _his_ medic as he slowly pushed his fingers into himself. He pulled them partway out, then pushed in again, brushing against a sensitive node cluster in the process. 

“Ah! Mmm..” He kept his moans quiet, not wanting to alert anyone to his location, but it was getting harder as he pumped his fingers a little faster now, crooking them to hit a certain spot that brought stars across his vision. _‘You like that? Yea, I know you do. Don’t worry, i’ll take care of you’._ Drift bit his lip to keep himself from whimpering. He was venting so fast, he was almost panting, desperately chasing his overload. He brought his free hand to his node and rubbed furiously, thinking about how _incredible_ it would feel if the doc were between his legs, fingering him, and sucking on his node, bringing Drift to that wonderful peak. ‘ _You taste wonderful, kid. Come on, let go for me’._

Drift pushed his fingers in harder, desperate for his overload, when all of a sudden, his frame went taught. He threw his head back and bit down harder on his lip to keep in the loud moans he couldn't stop his vocalizer from making as his overload washed over him. 

As his overload faded, he gently pulled his fingers from his valve, taking long, slow breaths. 

 _‘What the frag is wrong with me?’_ Drift thought to himself as he closed his panel and turned on his side. _‘That mech is a medic, a_ professional _, who was just doing his job. How could I think of him like that?_ Drift couldn't understand why a single act of kindness could keep his attention like this. It wasn't as if people hadn't done things for him before? Given him fuel if they'd seen him on the street or even some customers who threw in a little extra just because. Truthfully the doctor didn't even do him a favor, he did his buddy a favor. What was his name? _Orion_. Yea, he needed Drift to be alive to rat out his drug dealer. _Pshh,_ did they think he was crazy? He already had the D.J.D. on his aft and he didn't even _say anything._ He didn't need his dealer on his case too. Ugh. He was a mess… Maybe he should just get some sleep. 

 

**

Ratchet had gotten approximately 2 hours of un-interrupted recharge before his internal alarm went off, signaling the start of another _glorious_ day. He sat up and looked over at the empty spot in his berth where Pharma usually lay, feeling a small twinge of loss in his spark. He really did miss Pharma, or at least what they used to have. They were so happy for so long, he really couldn't figure out when things went south… 

He should give Pharma a call, just to make sure he was okay and make sure he got to wherever he was going safe and sound. Ratchet would make some time later to sit down and chat with him, assuming that Pharma even answers the call. 

The CMO pulled himself out of bed and took a quick pass through the wash racks, enjoying the feel of the hot solvent beating on his aching frame. He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to work out the kinks in his lines, but a quick glance at his chronometer showed that he needed to get going, so he turned off the water, wiped himself down and grabbed a quick ration before walking out his front door.

There were already a couple patients int he waiting room by the time he arrived. With Pharma gone, he had to see both of their patients, so he knew he was in for one pit of a day. He greeted the receptionist as he walked in, grabbed the data pads with his patient files for the day, and made his way back to his office. He dropped the pads down on his desk, and grabbed the one on top, for his first patient, looking it over before he went out to greet them. 

He filled a cube at the dispenser in the corner of his office, drinking half, before sighing and walking out the door.

 

**

Several hours later, after many monotonous check-ups and reassuring people that Pharma will be coming back, and that yes, they _should_ remain Pharma’s patient, Ratchet finally dropped down in his desk chair, scrubbing his hands down his face and picked up one of his personal data pads. He brought up Pharma’s comm number, and just stared at it for a couple minutes before actually pushing the button. 

He'd never felt nervous talking to Pharma, even after he learned that he’d been unfaithful. Ratchet had nothing to be nervous about; He didn't do anything _wrong_. 

However, the last 24 hours without Pharma had actually been… _relaxing._ Besides the usual stress of the job, it was kind of nice to not have to worry about watching what he said or did just to avoid another fight.

Then there was that gutter-mech. The adorable leaker that stumbled so ungracefully into Ratchet’s life, made Ratchet feel things he'd never felt before, and then in the blink of an eye, he was gone. He’s been doing a fair amount of thinking about that poor spark, hoping that he at least had a safe place to recharge at night, somewhere he could keep his _damn_ wounds clean until they were healed, and wondering what he was going to do about his finials now that he didn't have a medic to fix them. Ratchet should just stop thinking about him, because he was gone and likely never coming back again…But what a _beautiful_ smile that kid had. If Ratchet wasn't exactly _nervous_ about speaking to Pharma, he at least felt slightly guilty about how content he’d been without him around. 

“Ratchet?”

Oh! Ratchet looked down at his data pad and saw a slightly confused Pharma looking back at him. 

“Pharma. Hey, I uh…I wasn't sure you were going to answer. Are you alright? I mean, did you get there okay? Your trip was good?” He was babbling now, embarrassed that he'd been caught deep in thought about another mech, even though Pharma didn't know that. 

“Yes, of course, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I answer?” Pharma responded in a light tone, sounding so calm and relaxed. 

“I didn't know if maybe you were busy. I know you’re working after all”. Ratchet _knew_ he wasn’t, but may as well play along. No use dropping the charade now, over the phone. That would be _rude_ , wouldn't it? 

“I’m never too busy for you, darling” Pharma said with a suggestive smile, which surprised Ratchet enough to physically jolt him in his seat. He kept his surprise off his face and just gave a smile back. “How are you fairing there without me? I know its probably very busy, but are you taking care of yourself? Have you been fueling?”

Ratchet couldn't help the way his eyes narrowed slightly before he caught himself. Pharma hadn't asked him questions like this in _years._ He couldn't even remember the last time Pharma checked up on him or asked him how he felt. Even their interfacing was business-like; Short, kinda-sweet, and to the point. Either Pharma was trying to butter him up so he didn't ask too many questions, _or_ there was trouble in paradise and maybe he was remembering what a good thing he and Ratchet had. 

“Yea, I’m fine. It was a busy day, but we handled it. I was at the clinic yesterday…” He contemplated telling him about his day, but after a quick mental face-slap, he decided that that was probably the most idiotic thing he could possibly do. Pharma wasn't a big fan of Orion in the first place because of how close he and Ratchet are (how funny that Pharma is a jealous aft)  and he just didn't need Pharma knowing about his little leaker anyway. Heh, _his_ leaker. Primus he needed to clear this kid from his head… “and things were pretty quiet there, so yea, everything’s been fine”. 

“Good. Thats good to hear.” Ratchet saw Pharma glance above the screen, just for a second before making optic contact with Ratchet again. 

“You know, Pharma, when you come back, I really think we should have a talk. About _us._ ”

Pharma’s optics visibly widened and he sat up straighter in his chair.

“Us? What about us?” He tried to keep his smooth, even tone but Ratchet could tell that he did _not_ like the sound of that. “If there’s anything you need to say, you can tell me Ratchet.” His voice was strained, like he expected to hear bad news. 

“No, its nothing in particular…” just your _cheating aft_ “I just feel like we've been together a while and we really should discuss our future together.” He flashed a big smile, like thinking about them together forever was the happiest thing he'd ever heard. Really he just wanted to give Pharma something to think about for the next 3 weeks while he was away, over there, with _who-the-frag-ever._ Maybe when he came back, _if_ he came back, he would either decide to break it off with Ratchet on his own, preventing Ratchet from having to do it - or he would decide to just be with Ratchet. They could leave the past behind and go back to the way things were. Everything would be fine. 

“Right. Yes, of course. Anything you want dear. I do love speaking to you, but I'm honestly swamped here. Can I call you back tomorrow?”

 _Yea, I thought so._ “Of course. Don't work too hard, love.”


	7. Chapter 7

Orion Pax sat at his desk, reading through the last of his data pads for the day. He put the pad down before he finished after a quick look at the time. The officer stood from his desk, twisting at his middle to stretch out his back. Taking a deep breath in and out, he pushed his chair in and left his office, grabbing his half full energon cube to sip on the way. He sent the command to lock his office door and walked through the squad room nodding professionally to the other officers and coming to a sudden halt when one stepped right out in front of him, standing there looking up with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Orion. I was just coming to see you. Do you have a minute?” The black and white Praxian said. 

“Actually, Prowl, I was just on my way to meet Ratchet at his clinic, I have some unfinished business to attend to with one of his patients”. Orion responded, trying to keep his gaze from wandering over the curvy form of his co-worker. 

“There is a matter that requires your immediate attention, I assure you it wont take long” Prowl insisted. “Please follow me”. 

Orion meant to object, but Prowl turned around and Orion couldn't have stopped himself from following if he wanted to. The Praxian led them back, though the station and into an empty office and Orion closed the door behind them.

Prowl opened his mouth to say something, but before he had the chance, Orion had moved in and placed a passionate kiss on his lips, the bigger mechs hands on either side of his face, holding him in place while he gently ran his glossa along the Praxians lips. Prowl moaned and opened for him, stroking his glossa against Pax’s and wrapping his arms around the back of the taller mechs neck, pulling him in close. 

Heat quickly spread to Prowls array, his valve already dripping, panel threatening to slide away. He moaned into the kiss again when Orion reached down and grabbed Prowl with both hands under his aft and lifted him, pulling his body flush against his own, wrapping the smaller legs around his waist. Orion could feel that his lovers panel had opened, the warm, lubricant covered valve pressing against his own panel made his fans kick up to their highest setting. He growled against the Praxians mouth, gently biting his lower lip before going back in for another devouring kiss. 

He backed them to the empty desk in the middle of the room and gently bent down until Prowls back was supported by the desk, never stopping the kiss while he moved one hand down to rub two fingers against Prowls valve. 

“Mmm!” Prowls moan was muffled against Orions lips, his glossa determined in its thorough exploration of Prowls mouth. 

Orion’s panel had now retracted as well, the wet, moaning bot under him was too much for him to try and withstand. He pressed two fingers into Prowl and quickly started a rhythm. Pumping his fingers in and out, curling them when they were the furthest in, making Prowl writhe beneath him. 

 “Ah!” Prowl broke the kiss, only to beg Orion for more. “Please! Orion…I need you, please.” He gasped out, his venting hitched and uneven. They were both running so hot, they wouldn't last long at all, but that was the effect they had always had on each other. Especially when their meetings needed to be quick and hidden. 

 

Prowl threw his head back when Orion swiftly removed his fingers and sheathed his spike in one motion, hitting the very back of Prowls valve. His spike was long and considerably thick, matching his frame size, and it drove Prowl absolutely insane. The pressure on all his deepest nodes with every single thrust while stretching him to his limits made Prowls head spin. He had never known pleasure like he had with Orion. 

Orion’s thrusting was fast and hard, one hand holding hard to Prowls hip, the other wrapped around the back of his lovers neck to pull him into another all consuming kiss. 

The larger mech easily held Prowl in place while he ground their hips together, sliding his hand down from Prowl’s hip to underneath his knee, lifting the leg up over his shoulder. The new short, deep thrusts were making Prowl shout with each tap of their hips. No words, just sobbing moans right into Orions ear, making him thrust even harder. 

Prowl went over first, his hands like claws on the back of Orions helm. His valve rolled then tightened down on Orions spike, pulling him into his own overload. The bigger mech leaned down and kissed Prowl again, trying to muffle his scream of pleasure, remembering that they were in fact, still at work. They shook together, trembling in each others arms as they came down.

Prowls leg fell from Orions shoulder, his hands moving softly up and down the larger mechs back while his venting evened itself out again. 

“Didn’t you have somewhere to be?” Prowl asked with a smirk.

Orion let out a soft laugh, lifting himself so he could look his lover in the eyes before answering. 

“Well I was, but how am I expected to talk away from someone so beautiful?” He said while gently running one thumb across Prowls cheek. The smaller mech looked away at the praise, his smirk widening to a full grin.

“That was wonderful. I…I really needed that” Orion continued, now gently separating himself from Prowl.

“It was…” Prowl answered, now sitting himself up and reaching in his subspace for a cloth to clean themselves off “…But this was not the reason I asked for a moment with you. Not that I'm complaining, of course.” He handed a cloth to Orion then began to wipe himself down with one of his own. 

They had a complicated relationship. What started out as purely physical was quickly turning into something more, and it was frightening both of them. 

Mostly because it was entirely unprofessional, but they couldn't keep away from each other. So this is what became of them; Secret meetings behind locked doors, both of them wanting more but neither wanting to risk it. What they had was good, and there was no reason to ruin a good thing with over-thinking and unnecessary questioning.

Unfortunately, those were two of Prowls defining qualities. The praxian finished wiping himself off and sat back on the desk, his gaze wandering over the larger frame of his lover. 

**“** Orion, may I ask you something?”   
 ****

“Of course. Anything” He responded, still cleaning himself off. He did still have to meet Ratchet and he didn't have time for a trip through the wash racks first so he needed to make sure all evidence of their coupling was gone from his frame. 

“If one of us were to…meet someone. How would that affect our relationship?”

Orions attention immediately snapped to Prowl. He wasn't angry, just… interested. 

“I know we've always said this wasn't exclusive, but over time, it seemed that neither of us has taken another lover…and I just…I don't want to _presume_ anything.”

“Have you… _have_ you met someone?” Orion asked, slowly moving closer to Prowl, but not touching. His voice was steady, but you had to know Orion a very long time to be able to decipher his feelings. He was exquisite at hiding them. 

“I mean, it’s nothing yet…I’ve not been dating someone or anything like that. I just, may be interested, in the future, if, possibly, he is as well… interested, I mean.” He was rambling, unsure of what to say. Now that Orion was in front of him, having just giving him a processor-blowing overload, everything he had practiced seemed inappropriate. 

**“** I haven't approached him about it yet. Or at all, if it makes you uncomfortable, or if you feel that maybe this has become something more than we had originally planned. Not that I would regret if it had! I was just…wondering” Prowl was _never_ flustered. It was a very strange and unsettling look on him, so Orion moved forward and placed a hand on Prowls shoulder, hoping to relax him. 

“Prowl, you know how much I enjoy our time together. You know I find you to be _so_ beautiful, and a wonderful mech, but I don't want you to think i’d ever be upset with you for following your spark.” Orion smiled and moved his hand to gently tip Prowls chin up and leaned in for a soft kiss. “We never said this was exclusive, and you are more than welcome to pursue another mech if you so desire” 

Prowl, feeling that he had said more than enough, simply smiled up at Orion and nodded. He didn't think that Orion would be mad at him, but he was afraid of upsetting him. He pushed himself off the desk, standing in front of Orion.   
 ****

The larger mech reached forward and grasped one of the Praxians hands, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. 

“So, does this mean that we are..?” Orion asked hesitantly. He didn't want to assume, but he wanted to be sure of where they stood so he could act accordingly. 

“Im not sure if anything will come of my interest in Jazz, but-“

“Jazz?” Orion asked, not meaning to interrupt. Walking towards the door, Prowl took the hint and followed remembering that Orion _did_ have somewhere to be. 

“Oh yes. Thats his designation.” Prowl answered as they walked side by side through the station and onto the street. 

“I do not know if anything will come of it, but I would rather not be attached in any way before pursuing him. I hope you understand” Prowl finished, feeling a little uncomfortable standing out on the sidewalk with his superior officer, telling him he no longer wanted to casually frag. 

“Of course i understand. Like I said, I just want you to be happy.” He answered with another soft smile, looking fondly at Prowls lips, feeling a little sad that he may never kiss them again. “I had better get to The Den. Ratchet will be waiting for me.” 

“Yes, of course. I will see you tomorrow, Sir.” Prowl said. The title was unnecessary, but it had become habit to address him properly in public. 

Orion nodded and turned, transforming and merging onto the street, headed to see Ratchet. Prowl watched until Orion faded from view, then he turned around and started walking. If he was going home, he would have to transform, the distance to great to walk. Tonight, however, he was headed to the bar a few blocks from here. It was open mic night, and the one mech who never missed it, was the one he needed to speak to. 


End file.
